Have you pissed anyone off lately, Moon Dance?
It was nearly midnight, and, after working with a 24-hour glass service, I had contacted Fang and gotten him up to speed.
No more than usual, I wrote.
And you're sure one of them wasn't our vampire hunter from last year?
I shook my head, although I was alone in the room. I'm fairly certain. Randolph the vampire hunter worked alone, and this was a two-man crew. Besides, Randolph and I are on good terms.
Meaning what?
Meaning, I'm not very high on his kill list.
Randolph the vampire hunter doesn't sound very catchy.
Maybe not, but he's effective.
I still say you shoulda dropped his ass in the ocean. Why leave it to chance that he might return?
A judgment call.
A judgment call you might regret, he wrote, paused, then added: Sorry, Moon Dance. I'm just very, very protective of you, and two creeps showing up at your house with fucking crossbows scares the shit out of me. I mean, what if they had gotten a shot off at you, or your son?
It was nearly too horrible to contemplate, so I didn't. Fang sensed this and changed the subject a little.
Have you talked to Anthony about, well, everything?
Mostly. I told him that we were different. I told him that we were stronger than most people. He said something about being superheroes, and I went with that for now.
Except that might do more damage than good, Moon Dance.
For now, it's enough that he knows he's different and needs to keep it secret.
Baby steps, wrote Fang, obviously reading my mind.
Yes, baby steps. Also...
But I couldn't finish the thought. I stopped writing, but Fang, privy to my thoughts, had picked up on it. He finished it for me, writing: Also, you're tired of hiding who you are.
Yes.
Will you tell your daughter?
I think so. Yes.
How do you think they will take it?
I don't know, Fang. I only hope they don't hate me.
Well, I, for one, would think you were the coolest mom ever.
Yeah, well, you're also a freak.
I could almost hear Fang chuckling lightly on his end. On my end, I could hear Anthony snoring lightly and faint music issuing from Tammy's room. The house creaked from somewhere and I nearly bolted to my feet.
Just the house settling. Calm down, Sam.
Easier said than done.
Earlier, Kingsley had offered to come over, but the big guy had an important court hearing in the morning, and I assured him I would be fine. Fang had offered, too, but I politely declined. Truth was, I doubted they would be back. Whoever they were, the element of surprise was gone. If they were going to attack, they were going to do it somewhere else.
And just who were they?
That was the question of the hour.
A minute or two passed before the pencil icon appeared again in the chatbox window, indicating Fang was typing a message, followed by: I've been doing some research into blood dealers, Moon Dance.
Oh?
He shielded his thoughts while he typed out his response. He didn't want me to know his sources, which was fine by me. We all had our secrets.
Apparently, there's a sort of hierarchy to blood.
What do you mean?
Degrees of desirability. For instance, animal blood is the lowest. Deceased human blood is next.
I recalled Detective Hanner's comment about gathering blood from morgues and hospitals. I shuddered.
I wrote, And fresh human blood is the most desirable.
Not quite, Moon Dance.
What do you mean?
There's another source of blood that's even more desirable than human blood. Vampire blood. Apparently, Moon Dance, your blood fetches a pretty penny on the open market.
Jesus.
I suspect Robert Mason is far more dangerous than you realize.